


The Greater Good

by whitesheets



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drama, F/F, Family, Female-Centric, Femslash, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesheets/pseuds/whitesheets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline and Cassidy Priestly pay Andy a visit on a Saturday afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for the DWP fandom in a _very_ long time (since 2009, really) and for some reason, I was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to write Miranda/Andy one fine day. This is the result. Thanks to Natasha, for giving this a brief read-through and reassuring me that it's readable. Enjoy!

If there was any possibility at all that her head could explode, Andy was sure that her brains would have already been splattered all over the walls of her tiny, dusty, apartment. The empty vodka bottle teetering on the edge of the side table gleamed from the one o’clock sun leaking through the barely closed curtain.

”Don’t judge me,” she muttered, feeling like she had swallowed sawdust in her sleep, and put a cool hand to her forehead.

The vodka bottle sat unmoving, as if it was clearly _judging_ Andy for finishing every drop of the clear liquid.

Struggling somewhat, she pushed herself up with her elbows and squinted around the almost empty room. Everything she valued was at the townhouse - her toiletries on Miranda’s bathroom counter, her books sitting on Miranda’s plentiful bookshelves, beside Miranda’s own considerable literary collection, her clothes in Miranda’s closet, hanging beside Miranda’s even more considerable wardrobe.

Funny how she had left most of it at the townhouse when she stormed out, taking only her coat and purse with her. After walking aimlessly around the streets for hours, Andy had finally realized that she couldn’t go home and hailed a cab for the other side of town, back to the pathetic little place she had only been too happy to vacate last month. Although she hadn’t been staying here for weeks now, she had kept it around, in case friends or even her parents, visited.

That night, she had crashed on her old bed (although she had shared it with Nate, it felt very small when she had Miranda’s king-sized one to compare it to) with the weight of her miserable world on her shoulders, sobbing until she croaked.

Andy had attempted to call that night, because she was a decent human being, but Miranda’s phone had been switched off which had pissed Andy off even more. Real mature, she had thought. Fine. She’d call again, once Miranda stopped running away like a coward, or better yet, she’d wait for Miranda to call.

But Miranda never called, and Andy threw herself into her latest piece of work, a little investigative piece on inner-city schoolteachers. It had kept her busy enough but she turned the article in yesterday evening and now had nothing else to keep her preoccupied.

Sitting up fully, she ran her fingers through her hair. Last night had been her third night here, and she counted each hour spent away from Miranda and the kids. God, the kids. Their faces flashed through Andy’s pounding head, two pairs of cold blue eyes staring at her as if they _hated_ her. They probably did. She knew what they had been thinking the moment she yanked open the front door, and the chill she felt had nothing to do with the cold outside.

Andy had heard their taunting voices the entire first night she had spent here. The girls had never said it out loud, but their eyes had. _You’re leaving us. You promised you would never leave us_.

Miranda hadn’t even deigned to go after her. Maybe she expected Andy to just apologize, and crawl back upstairs, knowing that Andy would always relent after an argument. Oh, they argued, but Andy had always felt that they would still come out loving each other, come rain, or come shine.

Well, not this time.

Groaning, Andy rubbed her hands roughly over her face. She hadn’t bothered to put on any make-up since she left, and had practically worn jeans and sweatshirts to work for the past few days. Being fashionable was low on her priority list when her chest had a permanent ache that didn’t seem to want to go away. Eating sat quite low as well; she had practically survived on caffeine the whole of yesterday and her stomach was rumbling with a vengeance now.

Andy picked up her cellphone, and squinted at the display. Two missed calls from Caroline, and one from Cassidy. None from Miranda. She checked her texts and realized that she hadn’t replied to Caroline’s last message the night before, sent in a chat-group Andy had originally created for just the three of them. It had helped the twins bond with her better when she started popping by the townhouse, having tapped into their preference to messaging applications on their phones. While Andy had never explicitly told Miranda about it, she knew the older woman was aware of their exclusive little bubble and she had suspected that the twins talked about Andy to their mother. _Of course, they did_.

The night had passed by in a haze, and she barely remembered the conversation last night with Cassidy and Caroline under the numbness of alcohol.

Andy threw a dirty look to the vodka bottle. “Thanks a lot.”

God, she was going out of her mind, talking to inanimate objects but talking to something was better than nothing. Quickly scrolling through the message thread from last night, Andy felt sick to her stomach all over again, and it had nothing to do with alcohol this time around.

_Caroline: Are you coming back?_

_Andy: Not now, baby. I’ve been busy. Is your mom ok?_

_Caroline: No. You’re a liar._

 “Ah, fuck my life,” she grunted, swinging her legs out from under the sheets and throwing her phone unceremoniously on the empty bed. “Fuck the world,” she said, as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. “Fuck Miranda,” she whispered, as tears pooled traitorously at the corner of her eyes but she brushed them aside angrily and balled the t-shirt up, before flinging it across the room.

She needed a shower badly, and her neck ached. Thank God, it was Saturday. There was no way she could have dealt with another day of work after holding it in together for three whole days. Her colleagues had suspected something was amiss – the sweatshirt was a glaring hint from the most fashionable journalist the Mirror had on their payroll – but they had kept quiet.

The heat felt good against her back, water pounding her skin into a tingly pink and when she stepped out, the cool air jolted her awake.

Somewhere between making herself coffee and crunching on some saltines she found at the back of a kitchen cabinet, somebody pounded on her door and she jumped. Nobody had been by and Andy was sure nobody even _knew_ she was staying here. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, feeling like a failure, and she was irrationally afraid anyone she talked to would take Miranda’s side. It wasn’t as if she had many people to talk to about this either. Her parents were still giving her the freeze-out since she had told them about moving in with Miranda, and Lily had been distant since Nate moved to Boston. It had been a while but seeing pictures on Facebook of Lily, hanging out with Doug _without_ her still stung.

She briefly wondered if she left it long enough, whoever it was would just go away, but put down her coffee mug with a sigh when she realized the pounding on the door wasn’t about to stop any time soon.

“Yes?” she bit out, with the meanest expression she could pull, only to look down the haughty faces of twin redheads. Andy almost gasped in shock and took an unconscious step back. They looked like feral animals, ready to pounce and Andy’s heart sped up at the possibility of dying at the hands of two prepubescent girls.

The less haughty face narrowed her eyes at Andy and spoke, darkly: “Are you just going to _stand_ there?”

“Sorry, Caroline,” Andy said, recovering quickly and moving aside. “Does your mom know you’re here?”

“Mom’s at work,” Cassidy supplied, helpfully, but her voice was sharp and accusing. She followed Caroline inside, and looked around the space suspiciously. The girls had been here before, but it looked much different then, when her things were still around.

Andy frowned, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms. “Work?”

Miranda had stopped going into work on weekends for months, since Andy had become a fixture in the Priestly household. The twins had blossomed, as if they were receiving sunlight and water which had been deprived from them for far too long once Miranda started making a conscious effort to spend weekends _not_ working. The other woman had confided that she hadn’t even realized that the girls were wilting, until Andy had come into their lives and the girls thrived under the attention of another adult. Dear God, Miranda was at work and her kids were here and… Andy didn’t even want to think of the doom awaiting all of them once Miranda realized that the twins weren’t at home.

Andy had a million questions she wanted to ask about Miranda. She hadn’t heard from Miranda since she left, and it gnawed at her constantly, despite her anger. Had she eaten? Did she get enough sleep the night before? How did the meeting with the board go? Was Irv being particularly difficult?

Instead, Andy asked: "How did you guys know I was here?"

Two sets of eyes narrowed at her.  _Do you think we're idiots_ , went unsaid, but Andy heard it all the same.

“How did you guys get here?”

“We took a cab.”

The utter shock must have shown on her face, because they narrowed their eyes at her, challenging her to say something about it. They were spoiling for a fight but Andy’s healthy dose of anxiety about having anything happen to the twins (and Miranda’s reaction) overrode everything else.

“How did you get the money? Your Mom is going to kill you!” _And kill me too_ , her brain said.

Cassidy’s eyes narrowed even further into two slits. “Mom gives us allowance,” she said, twitching her nose, as if Andy should have known. “Anyway, we had to come for the greater good. And she won’t know. She said she’d be home late tonight.”

Huh. This was a recent development. “I didn’t know she started working on Saturdays again.”

“ _Don’t_ you?” Caroline said, deceptively calm.

“Um, I haven’t really…” Andy bit her lip. “I mean, I don’t-“

Cassidy rolled her eyes before Andy could finish. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, because it’s your fault. You lied to us and broke your promise,” she accused, jabbing a small finger into Andy’s stomach. Her eyes were burning and Andy felt something twist in her gut. _Goddammit._

“Girls -”

“No! You shut up!” Caroline snapped, and Cassidy looked at her twin in surprise.

Andy’s eyes widened at the same time. Caroline was always level-headed, calm and spoke quietly. Of course, if a Priestly child were to take after her mother, she just _had_ to take after Miranda in the most terrifying way. But right now she was hurting, and furious, and lashing out.

“Caroline,” Andy said, as sternly as she could muster. Somewhere in her head, she tried to remember Miranda disciplining her children (on the rare occasions that she did), and attempted to channel the same authority in her voice. She was the adult here, after all, despite the disconcerting fact that Miranda’s kids were practically mini-Mirandas with red hair.

But Caroline barreled on. “I hate you. You destroyed everything. You’re worse than Stephen because Mom didn’t even love him that much and he never really bothered about us.”

Cassidy had moved to stand beside her sister, holding her hand. Andy’s heart clenched even more. _Goddammit, goddammit!_ It was one thing to argue with Miranda but something else entirely to face down two irate children. A hurt child could carry scars that last into adulthood. Just look at Miranda, possibly the most damaged, messed-up person Andy could have ever met, not to mention, fallen in love with.

 “But you,” Caroline jabbed her with a shaky finger, in the same way Cassidy did. “You pretended to care about all of us. You made Mom love you and you’re leaving her. You hurt Mom when you promised us you wouldn’t. You promised us! You’re a _bitch_!”

“Stop right there, Caroline Priestly,” Andy tried again, choking back tears at Caroline’s words. They pierced her chest like a bullet. Telling herself that they were just really upset kids didn’t make the words hurt any less. “You know that’s not true. I _do_ care about all of you.” _Oh God, she really did._

“But you left us,” Cassidy said, so softly Andy had to strain to hear. “And you didn’t come back. It was like when Dad left us. He never came back.”

All the anger Andy had been feeling seeped out of her and she dropped to her knees, partially out of exhaustion, but mostly to be on eye-level to her tiny accusers. “We’re just angry at each other for a little while. We just need some time to get a little less angry. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you guys, or that I don’t love your mom. I’m not leaving for good. It’s only until we feel better.”

“What’s taking so long if you’re not leaving for good? Why haven’t you come back?” Caroline interrogated, crossing her arms.

Andy opened her mouth to answer, only to realize that she didn’t have an explanation for her actions. Why didn’t she go back? True, she had been furious with Miranda but she had stayed away for the better part of the week. Although, to be fair, Miranda wasn’t exactly welcoming her home with open arms either, Andy thought annoyed. The woman hadn’t even called. What kind of shit was that? Conscious that she was with said object of frustration’s children, she tried her best to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“We’re still kinda angry with each other. You know how when you girls fight, and you don’t feel like talking to each other until you’re not angry anymore?”

Cassidy gave a cautious nod but Caroline still eyed her suspiciously.

“Yeah, it’s like that. But then, you don’t feel angry anymore, and you start talking again. It doesn’t mean that you love each other less, right?” Andy said, relieved that she was finally making a breakthrough. While she wasn’t exactly confident that things would right themselves so easily between Miranda and herself, the kids didn’t need to know that.

“But it’s been almost a week, Andy,” Cassidy said. “I’ve never not spoken to Caroline in so many days, no matter how angry she makes me.”

“You’re hurting Mom,” Caroline persisted, stubbornly. Andy cursed the genes the girl had apparently inherited.

“Well, I’m hurt too, Caroline. We both said some things, that night. And –“

Caroline groaned, smacking her face into her hand. “No, you don’t get it. I can hear Mom crying every night even when she thinks she’s being quiet. You’re okay but Mom is really _not_.”

At that, Andy felt like scum. Miranda _never_ cried. Not even watching _The Lion King_. She had only seen Miranda cry once, and that was in Paris and Andy could see why. She supposed being served divorce papers was a really legitimate reason to cry. But after that, even when they fought, Miranda was a statue, in comparison to Andy’s babbling, crying mess.

Now, apparently, Andy possessed the power to make Miranda cry. She hated it.

Caroline continued, ignoring Andy’s contemplation: “When Cass and I go to her bedroom, she pretends she’s okay but we know she’s not and she wears more eye make-up in the morning. We made breakfast for her this morning because we wanted to surprise her, but she wasn’t even home! She went to work. To work!” Caroline ranted, and Andy could feel fear in each syllable, despite the anger masking it. The fear that her mother was reverting to the Miranda who didn’t smile, who didn’t make waffles on weekend mornings. The Miranda who went to work on a Saturday.

They might be fighting, but Andy couldn’t help the worry that had been building up since the twins showed up at her door. Andy was willing to bet that Miranda hadn’t even been eating and she was two seconds from turning up at Elias-Clarke with a steak and shoveling it down the pale slim throat of the woman who drove her to insanity.

Because it really sounded like Miranda was giving up and just how _dare_ Miranda give up?!

“Mom thinks you don’t love her anymore,” Cassidy said, so flatly that Andy shuddered.

When her brain registered the words, her mouth opened in shock.

“What?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I pretended to have a nightmare last night, so I could sleep with Mom. So I could make sure that she wasn’t crying again.”

“You slept with Mom?” Caroline asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Only for a little bit. I woke up in my own bedroom this morning,” Cassidy admitted, looking a little bit guilty that she hadn’t told Caroline before.

The notion that Miranda had carried Cassidy to tuck her into her own bed, was warm and precious and made Andy realize that she really, really _missed_ being at the townhouse. Missed being with Miranda. The girls. Whatever it was she was so pissed off at, wasn’t even worth it anymore. But Cassidy’s words settled over her head like an ominous dark cloud.

“Hold on, girls. Why would your Mom think I don’t love her anymore? I love all of you,” Andy said, slightly fiercer than she had intended. She tried to think back to the night they argued, but the details were starting to lose the sharpness, and she couldn’t be sure of what either of them had said anymore. _Shit_. Had she said something that had implied it but was too angry to realize? It would explain the silence if Miranda thought Andy had left for good. _SHIT_ , _DAMN._

“I tried to tell Mom that everything will be okay. So she wouldn’t cry once I fell asleep. I said you’d come back soon. But I think that kinda made her sadder. I asked Mom to ask you to come home because you’d listen to Mom if you won’t listen to us.”

Andy almost laughed out loud at the idea of Miranda listening to anyone. “And what did she say?”

Cassidy shrugged. “She said she did ask you to stay but you didn't and just got quiet after that. I guess she didn’t want to talk anymore, so we slept. Well, I did anyway. Please just come home, Andy. We don’t know how to make Mom happy again.”

Andy pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to recall details from that night again. She would have remembered. She wouldn’t have walked out, if Miranda had really asked her to stay. She wasn’t that big of an idiot.

_“Don’t you dare walk out on me,” Miranda said, sharply._

_Andy flinched. She was done, done with being talked to as if she was an idiot. Miranda couldn’t tell her what to do, and Andy absolutely hated being told what to do. It made her feel like “the new assistant” all over again, quaking in her shoes at Miranda’s every whispery command._

_“I think you forget that I don’t work for you anymore, Miranda,” Andy said. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, or what not to do but you do it anyway, and I fucking let you! Jesus.” She turned away, from Miranda’s glare and anger, and started to leave the room._

_“Do not walk away from this,” Miranda’s voice came somewhere behind her, but Andy was already walking as fast as she could away from the whole mess. She couldn’t deal with Miranda looking at her that way. The disappointment. Andy Sachs, Mirror journalist extraordinaire could deal with a lot of shit, but not Miranda Priestly’s disappointment. She never could. That was why she had picked up her phone and made that fateful call to Miranda right after her Mirror interview. Just because Miranda had called her a disappointment._

_“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Andy snapped through her tears, irritated at Miranda’s gall to tell her what she couldn’t do, as if she didn’t hear a thing Andy had said. Typical. It was just like her to only hear what she wanted to._

_“Andrea.”_

_“Don’t talk to me.”_

_“If you leave –“_

_Andy spun around so fast, her head actually throbbed. “What? Are you going to threaten me? Blacklist me?”_

_Miranda paled. “No,” she said, quietly but the syllable sounded strangely heavy in the atmosphere. A range of emotions flitted across Miranda’s face, before indifference finally appeared and stayed. When she next spoke, it was neutral. “If you’ve made up your mind, don’t let me stop you then.”_

_Andy watched the older woman shutting down right in front of her, expression blank, eyes devoid from the emotions which had burned in them only a moment ago. If that was how Miranda wanted to fight it out, like she was in a budget meeting with Irv-fucking-Ravitz, Andy wasn’t sure she could survive it. Furious Miranda was a million times better than this. At least with furious, Andy could see her footing. Now, she was grappling in the dark, unable to read the other woman._

_She couldn’t deal with stumbling around, unwilling to risk falling into something she couldn’t climb out of._

_Before Andy knew it, the front door loomed ahead. She hadn’t even realized that she had continued walking. When she looked up the stairs, the twins were looking down at her. Miranda hadn’t followed._

_Fuck_.

“You said the F-word!”

Andy blinked, not realizing that she had spoken her thoughts aloud. “Sorry,” she mumbled, fighting the urge to smack her head against the wall. It all make perfect, shitty sense, now that Andy wasn’t halfway between drunk and pitifully crying herself to sleep. The silence. The lack of emotions. _Of course,_ Miranda thought that Andy had been talking about _leaving_ her. _Of course_ , Miranda had to be on a completely different tangent that the one Andy was on that night. It was just so _her_ to be contradictory in any way possible.

She looked at Caroline, noticing that the girl had discarded her tough act and was now on the verge of crying. She looked at Cassidy, who was assaulting Andy with tearful, blue puppy-dog eyes. Sighing, Andy opened her arms and both girls flew into her embrace. No matter how much of Miranda’s mannerisms the girls mimicked with chilling accuracy, they were just kids.

Kids who would take a cab and frolic with millions of germ colonies to see Andy, and that was really saying something in Priestly-terms.

That made her feel warm inside and she clung onto the small bodies a little tighter.

“Are you coming home _now_?” somebody mumbled into her neck after a moment. Probably Cassidy.

“No,” Andy said, and two heads shot up so fast they almost smacked her in the nose.

She saw Caroline open her mouth again, no doubt to say something nasty, but Andy silenced her with a finger on her lips. “We are going to go and get a big fat juicy steak, and then we are going to Elias-Clarke because I bet your Mom intends to skip lunch and we can’t let her do that, can we?”

“All right, Andy!” Cassidy yelped, racing to the door in a flash.

Caroline was right behind her, albeit less vocal about her excitement.

The warmth spread from Andy’s chest to the tips of her toes and she was pretty sure this was joy. Joy at loving these two rascals, and their beautiful, frustrating mother. Joy that her crumbling world wasn’t crumbling anymore.

“Well, then, are you just going to kneel there all day?” Cassidy said, pointedly, already holding the door open.

Andy rolled her eyes and laughed.

Hope was flaring in her chest, and with every passing second, Andy’s confidence grew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part, finally ready. Many thanks to Natasha, always the first reader of anything I write, for looking this over. Please enjoy!

With every floor the elevator passed, Andy’s confidence shrank.

Her hands were starting to get clammy, and the efficiently quiet Elias-Clarke elevator wasn’t any good for her nerves. Steak in one hand and hot Starbucks in another, Andy shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The girls flanked her, and all three of them stared at the changing numbers above their heads, which were spelling impending doom if they failed to do what they came to do.

“Do you think, maybe, we should wait for Mom at home?” Cassidy asked, breaking the silence since they got in, neck still arched upwards as she stared at the electronic panel.

“Nonsense. Then Mom’s going to be miserable _until_ she gets home,” Caroline said.

Andy just let out a shaky breath. It had seemed so smart, fifteen minutes ago, when Smith & Wollensky’s staff handed over the paper bag which held Miranda’s lunch. But now…it was a bit like making an animal offering to a vicious goddess, Andy thought absently, while the floors seemed to crawl past agonizingly slow.

“I guess. Well, Andy just has to fix it,” Cassidy stated.

Like it was that easy, huh? Andy’s hands got clammier.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts about sacrificial ceremonies of civilizations past. Andy just needed to be confident, and assured, and take charge when she went in there. Miranda always seemed to be responsive, when Andy took charge, in various situations.

For someone dominant in so many facets of her personality, Miranda often surprised Andy with her tameness at home. Andy had been shocked when she first saw how Miranda allowed the twins to talk down to her without reproach and had vowed that the little terrors were not going to get away with it the next time it happened. Not if Andy had anything to do with it.

Once, Miranda had praised the girls’ efforts in a soccer friendly with a rival school, although Dalton had lost the match, only to have Cassidy snap that “sports isn’t fashion”. She had said “fashion”, like she thought it was the stupidest thing to exist, and the look on Miranda’s face actually made Andy hurt physically. When Miranda had only responded mutedly with something vague like “Of course, Bobbsey,” instead of the hellfire which would have rained on anyone else who had dared to speak to her that way, Andy almost choked on her beans.

The elevator stopped and the door slid open smoothly. Caroline took the first step onto the Runway floor and turned around, as if seeing Andy for the first time. “What if she screws it up? She should have changed out of _that_.”

“So much for moral support,” Andy said, suddenly feeling _not_ confident at all.

“C’mon Caro, it’s not like Mom loves her for her fashion sense.” Cassidy whispered harshly, glaring daggers at her sister.

Trust a Priestly twin to defend a person and insult them at the same time.

“Thanks for the rousing defense,” Andy whispered back, and looked around the Runway offices. It was mostly deserted (which had only started happening when everyone realized that Miranda wasn’t coming in on Saturdays, although Runway’s official working week was Monday to Friday and had been for the last thirty years) so they knew Miranda hadn’t informed anyone that she would be coming in.

She wondered if Miranda would take her appearance here well and realized that she didn’t know. The risk of being killed by Miranda’s verbal slaying was actually something Andy worried about. In some fundamental way, Andy knew that life had knocked Miranda around pretty damn hard, and the resulting walls and thorns were there for protection. Though, the fact that Miranda had lowered those walls in front of her willingly, was a blinking neon sign that Andy was fucking special, goddammit.

And because of that, they would go home together today. Also, because Andy wasn’t an idiot and she loved her Saturday morning waffles and Sunday morning coffee in bed with Miranda lolling about the bed naked, amongst other things.

They rounded the corner to Miranda’s office and paused. _Gird your loins_ , Andy thought, in Nigel’s voice, and it made her a feel a teensy bit better. The door to the office was uncharacteristically closed, which was even more out of place since there was nobody else at work.

Maybe Miranda wasn’t in there. But then, where _else_ would she go? Work was what Miranda escaped into when she didn’t want to deal with pesky things like life. If Miranda was in there, then she might actually be fuming to see Andy, and the girls should definitely not stay to witness another blowout. Oh God. What had she been thinking, letting the twins come with her?

But Cassidy was already opening the door with Caroline close behind.

“Mommy?” Cassidy’s confident tone was suddenly a child’s voice again.

After a moment of silence, Andy finally heard Miranda’s soft dulcet tones. “Bobbsey? What are you doing here?”

Without responding, both girls slipped through the door and Andy’s feet propelled her to follow. She wanted, no, _needed_ , to see Miranda. Her heart felt like it was about to explode out of her ribcage.

Swallowing hard before pushing the door open, Andy stepped through into the glass enclosed space ready to place her peace offerings on the desk when she realized the woman wasn’t there. The Book sat there and Andy knew it had been untouched from the lack of tell-tale Post-Its sticking out from the edges.

Frowning, she looked around, only to see Miranda on the sofa in the corner of her office, Prada heels discarded, legs tucked under. Cassidy and Caroline had each taken a side, curling up around their mother in a protective embrace. Right now, Andy wanted nothing more than to be part of that bubble. Her chest ached, with relief, to finally set eyes on Miranda’s face after a few very, very long days. Miranda’s hair looked immaculate as usual, but her face was drawn, and the shadows in the hollows of her cheeks looked deeper. Caroline was right. The cool grey eyeshadow Miranda favoured was a bit more liberally, albeit still skillfully, applied and there were shadows visible under her eyes despite the concealer. To know that she had played a part in causing that, made Andy’s stomach plummet.

“Hey,” Andy tried, her voice sounding hoarse to herself.

Miranda looked up and something flashed in her eyes, the only indication that she had been affected by Andy’s presence at all. Otherwise, Miranda looked like she could be evaluating proofs from an uninspiring photoshoot.

Okay. Andy shouldn’t take it personally. If she had spent three nights thinking that Miranda had walked out on her for good, she would have probably reacted much worse if Miranda reappeared. For all its worth, Miranda was practicing remarkable restraint.

“I know you haven’t eaten lunch, so we brought you something,” Andy continued, placing the bag down on the glass desk and the coffee cup beside it.

“Brought me something,” Miranda repeated, tilting her head.

“We got you steak, Mom. Just the way you like it,” Caroline said, her small hand on her mother’s shoulder. Her voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper. “We went to fetch Andy back.”

Miranda narrowed her eyes. “And how did you go about doing that?”

“We went to look for her,” Cassidy said, and then regretted it immediately when Miranda’s nostrils flared.

“Please tell me you had Roy take you.”

Silence.

“You mean, you went _yourselves?”_ Miranda looked furious.

Oh God, this was it. This was the doom she had been fearing since Tweedledum and Tweedledee appeared at her door this afternoon.

“Mom, we needed to,” Caroline pleaded. Her hand had slipped to hold Miranda’s. “You were so sad all the time, and we couldn’t fix it. We hate it when you cry.”

Miranda flushed and looked everywhere except at Andy. “I did no such thing _._ ”

Caroline completely ignored the denial. “We needed to bring Andy back, to take care of you. We couldn’t do it ourselves.”

At that, Miranda’s shoulders dropped and she looked defeated. Small. Just really sad. And Andy really didn’t know where to start the repairs.

“I am perfectly fine, Bobbsey. Mommy was just a little pre-occupied by a lot of things. You needn’t have bothered Andrea. If Mommy was hungry, I could have ordered lunch myself. But I do not want you girls gallivanting all around New York yourselves,” Miranda said, sternly. Then she softened. “I’m sorry I made my darling girls worry.”

Cassidy snuggled closer and Miranda kissed the top of her head.

“You’re never hungry anymore,” Caroline said, dropping her eyes.

Andy’s eyes prickled. _Bothered Andrea._ Miranda was already cutting Andy out of her life.

Well, Miranda can just go and shove it because Andy was going to stick around. Bothered Andrea?! For fuck’s sake. Andy fought the urge to stomp her foot. She knew it. Had Miranda even eaten at all yesterday? God, that woman couldn’t be trusted with her own meals. She had half a mind to call Emily and demand to know if Miranda had lunch yesterday, because she sure as hell knew that Miranda probably hadn’t had dinner last night. But she didn’t know how receptive Miranda would be to Andy’s nagging right this moment. She had said, what, about ten words to Miranda since she came? Fuck.

“Miranda-“

But Miranda spoke right over her. “I appreciate you taking the time to bring the girls safely here, Andrea. I don’t know where they get these ideas.” She waved a hand through the air.

Cassidy rolled her eyes and Andy wanted to roll hers too.

“And thank you for humouring my children. I would have called for lunch if I had been hungry, so you needn’t have worried. I’m not in the habit of starving myself. Although it is no longer your – well, your obligation to feel so, it was very kind of you to be concerned.”

“Miranda, you know that isn’t true,” Andy said quietly.

And just because Miranda wasn’t hungry, it didn’t mean she wasn’t depriving her body from nutrients essential for a healthy life. Miranda Logic 101 needed to exist for the sanity of anyone who wanted to attempt a relationship with her.

She hated the way Miranda was talking, as if they were no longer together, or have not been together for a long time. She hated the formality and politeness of Miranda’s voice, the ones often reserved for ex-husbands and people on Miranda’s “Important People I Hate and Therefore Have to Be Cordial To” List. And she _really_ hated that Miranda thought it wasn’t Andy’s obligation anymore to care because Andy cared more than anyone else in the world.

“Regardless, the point is, I am grateful. And I hope that you would like to remain a part of my daughters’ lives despite what has happened,” Miranda said, very neutrally. “You have been a good influence, Andrea, and w – Caroline and Cassidy love you.”

Andy shook her head. “Nothing _has_ happened. Nothing we can’t fix.”

“Andrea-“

“Wait.” Andy caught the girls’ eyes and tilted her head towards the door. If the earlier aggression in Andy’s apartment was any clue, she knew that they were like cubs protecting their wounded mother. She hoped they caught her meaning and trusted her enough to leave her alone with Miranda – she was going to fix this, and they were going to go home together. If they let her.

They did.

The door closed behind them, but Andy was sure that they were pressed up against the door trying to listen. Well, she would just have to take what she was given.

She crossed the room and sat right beside Miranda on the recently vacated space.

“I don’t know what they’ve told you, but you don’t have to be here,” Miranda said, very quietly. It was likely that she knew the girls were listening outside as well.

“I would say that they have enlightened me with their visit. And you’re wrong. I _do_ want to be here and I am amazed that you haven’t thrown me out yet.” Gutsy. Confident. Andy could do this. Take charge and prevent Miranda from running them into the ground before Andy even had a fighting chance to get things flying again.

Miranda’s hands fidgeted in her lap, absently playing with the rings on her fingers. “I was angry, you know.”

“I know. I was afraid you were going to kill me,” Andy admitted.

“I _was_ angry. But when you walked out –” she stopped.

Andy had long known that Miranda wasn’t someone who expressed much verbally. The things she said, the words she used – they were calculated for maximum impact. It was like Miranda edited her sentences in her head before she actually spoke them aloud. But when it came to personal relationships, Miranda was a woman of action and she perceived the world around by the actions of others. And Andy had walked out in the middle of a fight. She had never done that before.

“I didn’t leave you,” Andy said, because it needed to be said. Because sometimes, actions can be misinterpreted. Like words.

“Didn’t you?”

Miranda’s fingers had moved on to play with her bracelet.

“No,” Andy said, firmly.

“You were very adamant about leaving that night.”

“If you didn’t notice before, you can be very sharp, Miranda, when you’re angry. Sometimes, I’m afraid you’d really kill me, by cutting me with your words. I couldn’t face you, not when I couldn’t read you. You don’t say much, but god, when you do say something, it just knocks the wind out of people.”

“I would imagine that you should know how to differentiate between how I treat you and how I treat my employees – people who are _paid_ to perform their task well but unfortunately do not.”

“Well, I _was_ your employee so the lines aren’t as clear cut as that,” Andy said. It was true. Each time they fought, Andy teetered on the edge, waiting for Miranda to drop the final blow and flick her away with the dreaded “That’s all”. Not that Miranda had ever used it with her in personal capacity, but the possibility still stuck with Andy, having been on the receiving end of the dismissal every single day for almost a year.

“Thank you for clarifying what you think of me,” Miranda said and stood up abruptly, stalking over to her desk. Her heels were thin, and stabbed into the white carpet, leaving little marks.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Well, I don’t know what you would and wouldn’t do!” Andy bit out, frustrated. “I was so used to it from before. You can’t exactly blame me for –“

“Stop your dramatics, Andrea,” Miranda snapped, and Andy frowned. The utter gall Miranda had – and she had a lot of it – to dare talk to Andy like she was five. This was exactly _why_ they had gotten into this whole mess in the first place. She opened her mouth to give as good as she got but noticed that Miranda kept looking at the closed office door.

Oh.

The girls.

Miranda stood at the edge of her desk but didn’t sit, fingering the last button of her white oxford shirt. Andy caught up in a few strides and reached out to sooth Miranda’s agitation, often expressed in very minute gestures only people like Nigel could read. Their fingers linked, and Andy could feel Miranda’s naturally warm, dry hands. Clammy hands were for people like Andy and other commoners.

Andy needed to take control. Be assertive.

“I left because I didn’t want either of us to say something we couldn’t take back,” she said.

Miranda swallowed. “I knew where you were. The girls told me. They wanted me to go and bring you back.”

“You could have. You didn’t call.”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. And you didn’t call either. Well, not me. But I know you were in touch with the girls.”

Ah, so that was the reason for her earlier speech.

“I didn’t call because I thought you were so angry with me that you didn’t want to talk to me. I figured you needed time to cool off. The girls were very angry at me but they were worried enough about you to actually talk to me.”

Miranda looked away, eyes flicking across the items on her desk. A fountain pen, The Book, a photograph of the girls. They settled on the Moleskine Andy had given Miranda to celebrate their first month together. Miranda had acted like it was ridiculous to celebrate a month together, but Andy suspected that it was because Miranda hadn’t gotten anything for Andy for the occasion. Not that Andy minded, because Miranda never went anywhere without the black notebook in her purse and it made Andy feel fuzzy and happy inside.

“The last time you walked away, I didn’t see you again for months. I didn’t think I would ever see you again then,” Miranda said, still not looking at Andy. “I asked you to stay, but you didn’t.”

Andy couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up, and Miranda immediately started to pull away. Andy held on tight knowing that she was stronger physically and Miranda would have to do some serious work to actually get away.

“I don’t appreciate being mocked.” Miranda’s eyes flashed with anger.

“I’m not, I swear it. Oh my god. It’s just, you know the things you say.” Andy rubbed her other hand over her face but a smile still tugged at her lips.

“As far as I’m aware, I did not say anything remotely funny. However, if you persist to be amused by the _things_ I say, you may remove yourself from my presence now,” Miranda said, voice cold and vibrating with hurt. The hand Andy felt was taut with tension, as if Miranda was ready to take flight the moment she released her grip.

Andy sobered up immediately. “Miranda, no, please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just thinking, you know, you didn’t actually _ask_ me to stay.”

A lip purse.

“You didn’t! You commanded me to stay. Instructed. Told. You never really asked,” Andy said, but rubbed her thumb across Mirada’s knuckles to show her that it was all right. That it wasn’t an accusation.

Miranda looked down at their joined hands for a long moment. “I didn’t know how else.”

“I can see that,” Andy said. “I guess, it’s just your way of asking, huh?”

When no reply seemed to be coming forth, Andy continued.

“I’m sorry I walked out in the middle of our argument. It was a really shitty thing to do, and I didn’t think of how you would have taken it.”

“Thinking seems to be an elusive activity for you.”

If the moment was right, Andy could have chosen to be pissed off. But it wasn’t worth it, and she knew that she still had some repairs to do and didn’t need to add on more damage. Also, she guessed, in Miranda-speak, it meant Miranda was agreeing with Andy.

If she dug deep under the barbs.

“You really need to work on your communication skills, babe. Here I am, trying to tell you I’m here, and we’re okay, and you insult me,” Andy said playfully, and the corners of Miranda’s mouth lifted very slightly. Her confidence which had disappeared on the way up, was back. It thrummed pleasantly in her belly. Oh yeah, Sachs, was back in the game.

“Is that what we are? Okay?” Miranda asked.

“Uh huh. We didn’t break up. I didn’t move out. My things are all still at home.”

Miranda’s lips quirked again. The dullness in her eyes was beginning to be replaced by hope. Beautiful, pure blue, hope.

“They _are_ still at home, aren’t they?” Andy teased.

“You’d have to come home to find out,” Miranda said, feigning disinterest, but Andy could see the tenseness dissipate and grabbed her chance with both hands.

She pressed her lips against Miranda’s, heard the woman emit a sound of surprise, and then a sob of relief. When Andy pulled away, cupping a soft cheek with her palm, Miranda was smiling at her.

Andy felt happy enough to float.

“I promise I won’t ever walk out on you in the middle of an argument again,” Andy whispered, and prayed fervently that there never came a point she would need to break the promise.

“I should not have sprung vacation plans on you so suddenly. I may have been a bit hasty to insist that you be there. I’m not accustomed to checking if I could take time off and had assumed you would be the same.” Miranda looked embarrassed.

The original argument, Andy thought. She laughed. She hadn’t even remembered what they had started arguing about in the first place.

She didn’t need to say it, but Andy knew that the people Miranda had been with prior were also more or less at the same level Miranda was at, in their career. They were people who _approved_ time off, instead of applying for it.

Realistically, Andy knew that it had to be an adjustment for Miranda to be with a cub reporter who earned a fraction of Miranda’s monthly income, yearly. A cub reporter who was just starting out and had more than one superior to report her time to. But they would make do and if Miranda slipped, Andy would just have to remind her.

“It’s fine. We just have a lot of adjusting to do. You’re used to being this superwoman and sometimes you just forget that I’m not on the same level. _Yet_. You just watch out, Priestly. I’ll make it big and marry your ass.”

Miranda actually blushed. Andy still buzzed with heady euphoria every single time Miranda did such an un-Miranda thing.

“You have to promise me something, though.”

Without hesitation, Miranda nodded.

“You won’t stop trying. No matter how hard it gets. You have to believe we’ll work. And you gotta eat, even if you’re upset. Or I’ll make the girls tie you up and spoon-feed you,” Andy said, seriously. Because if Miranda was going to give up without a fight if things got bad (and Andy couldn’t promise that things would always be good), it was never going to work out.

Silently, Miranda leaned forward and stole another kiss. It was her way of promising things too, Andy knew. By action.

She could hear snickers from behind the not-so-closed-door and realized that the twins must have opened the door to peek, when they couldn’t hear anymore.

Andy couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed at their privacy being invaded. As it turned out, Miranda, who was always slightly touchy about the girls invading her private time with Andy, couldn’t either, because she walked over and opened the door to full-on hugs and kisses.

When the girls turned their hugs on her, Miranda watching from behind in her wrinkled shirt, Andy knew for sure.

This could be nothing else, but joy, in her heart.

 

_fin_


End file.
